Paper Cranes (A Fairytale Twist Novel)

by Jordan Ford

  “Yeah, you could say that,” he mumbled.

  “I take it she doesn’t want some strange boy stealing her precious daughter away.” Miss Warren winked.

  Tristan’s chuckle was hollow and raspy. “I’d never steal her. I just want to be with her. I miss her.”

  Miss Warren’s gaze softened, her lips rising with sweet affection. She was no doubt swooning at the idea of young love.

  Tristan blushed and looked back to the desktop.

  “Young love has to be one of the most powerful forces on this planet.” Miss Warren chuckled. “Throw a little forbidden in there too and you’ve got something quite intoxicating.”

  “Not being allowed to see her isn’t why I want her so much.”

  Miss Warren tipped her head at Tristan’s desperate whisper. “Then why do you want her?”

  “Because…” He raised his hand, then squeezed the back of his neck with a sigh. “She makes me feel happy and like I’m a good version of myself when I’m with her. She sees me, you know? I could tell her anything. I love that we can just sit and shoot the breeze for a whole afternoon and it’s like no time has passed. She inspires me and feels perfect in my arms—her sweet scent and candy lips…” His voice died off with a floaty whisper. The dreamy smile on Tristan’s lips lingered for a moment, until he caught Miss Warren’s delighted expression.

  Jerking in his seat, he sat up and cleared his throat, his cheeks firing red. Miss Warren laughed softly, spinning the ring on her finger while he ducked his head and scratched the nonexistent itch between his eyebrows.

  “You’ve got it pretty bad, I see.”

  He shrugged.

  “I can understand why this is tearing you apart.”

  His lips pursed and he shook his head, his shoulders hitching again.

  Miss Warren cleared her throat, the chair scraping on the floor as she stood. Her shoes clicked on the shiny surface as she walked around and took a seat at the desk beside him. “You know, Romeo and Juliet broke the rules to be together.”

  Tristan scoffed. “And look what happened to them.”

  “But look what they had before it fell apart.” Miss Warren smiled and then sighed. “I’m not trying to encourage you to break the rules and upset her mother, but sometimes we have to snatch whatever moments of happiness we can.” She rested her long fingers on her upper chest and gave it a little tap. “Just imagine if Juliet had locked herself away and ignored Romeo. She would have missed out on this pure, magical moment in her life—a sheer taste of happiness that was so compelling she just had to follow her heart.”

  Tristan scratched his eyebrow, his lips dipping. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s best to not know what you’re missing.”

  Miss Warren’s head tipped to the side, her fine sandy locks resting on her shoulder. “Do you really want to live your life that way, Tristan? Shuffling through it with blinders on, ignoring everything it has to offer?”

  He shrugged, his lips pursing as he shook his head.

  “Okay, let me put it this way.” She tapped her finger on the desk. “You are currently miserable and you need to do something to snap out of this stupor. If being with this girl makes you happy, which we both know it does, then you need to find a way to make that happen. Life is too short to waste on wishing. Sometimes you have to chase after what you want.”

  He gave her a skeptical frown. “Even if it gets me in trouble?”

  Miss Warren’s lips twitched. “Some things on this earth are worth fighting for, and I believe love is one of them. You’re not breaking any laws by pursuing this girl, are you?”

  “Not unless her mother tries to get a restraining order against me.”

  “Well, until she does, I suggest you make the most of it.” Miss Warren winked. “Be brave, Tristan. Go get your girl.” She nodded her chin towards the door. “And I’ll arrange for you to retake that test next week.”

  With a slightly confused frown, he rose from his seat, shuffling out the door with a bemused grin.

  Did that just happen?

  He shook his head with a chuckle, his sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor as he made his way out past the last few stragglers and down the front steps of his school.

  26

  An Alternate Reality

  Tristan was still tripping over his little chat with Miss Warren as he parked his bike in the garage. He didn’t know how he was supposed to see Helena again. Yeah, he could climb the tower, but with the windows bolted and the dragon on duty it’d be pretty damn hard.

  He wasn’t sure if he was up for the fight either.

  Avoiding drama and conflict was his MO. He wasn’t too keen on running headfirst into battle with a psycho, book-throwing dragon.

  He grabbed the two bags of groceries he’d collected on the way home and then headed up the back steps. Flicking the door open, he walked into the kitchen and stopped, his eyes bugging out at the sight of his father standing by the sink, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder as he rinsed off a plate. A pot was bubbling on the stovetop, a box of Kraft Mac n’ Cheese sitting next to it.

  “Uh, what are you doing?” Tristan placed the groceries down and slid the bag off his shoulder. It thudded to the floor.

  His father gave him a lopsided grin. “I figured it was about time I gave cooking a try.”

  Tristan’s forehead crinkled and he looked over his shoulder, wondering when he’d accidentally walked into an alternate universe.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening right now. Why aren’t you on the couch drinking beer?”

  His father lowered the dish scrubber with a heavy sigh, his head drooping between his broad shoulders.

  “Tristan…” He sighed again, resting his dripping hands against the side of the sink. “What you said a few days ago really got to me. I know I’m a slow, lumbering dinosaur when it comes to dealing with emotions. The divorce, it…it really shut me down. I guess I forgot to notice how much it affected you too.” He spun to face his son, snatching the towel off his shoulder and drying his hands. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you chose to stay with me, but it always felt like a weird decision. I didn’t know how to help you. I didn’t know what to say or do to make you happy. But then you kind of picked up on your own. You started smiling again and…” His father’s lips lifted at the edges. “I started to feel like we could do this, you know?” His face bunched with a quick frown. “But the last week or so it’s just gone. You’re back to living like a zombie, and I…I don’t know if I can cope with that.”

  He kept his eyes on his fingers, drying them until the skin was tinged pink. “Now that I’ve seen you happy, seeing you miserable again is killing me.” He waved his hand in the air and then pointed to the stovetop. The lid on the pot jumped and rattled. Leon lurched toward it, lifting the lid and giving it a quick stir with the wooden spoon. He glanced over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. “I thought maybe I should step up and start playing Dad for a change. Sixteen-year-old high school kids should not be cooking dinner every night.”

  Tristan flashed him a sad smile, a thick lump forming in his throat. He nodded a couple of times and finally croaked, “Thanks, Dad.”

  His father brushed the air with a bashful smile. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? Dinner will be ready soon.”

  Still in a mild state of shock, Tristan did as he was told without argument, clomping up the stairs and reeling over the total weirdness of his day.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he dumped his bag and kicked off his shoes, heading back down to the kitchen to see if he could help.

  His father wouldn’t let him do a thing except unpack the groceries, and twenty minutes later they were sitting down to a slightly crispy version of Mac n’ Cheese and a salad that looked like it’d been made by a five-year-old wielding a machete.

  His father shoved a forkful of food in his mouth and wrestled with a grimace, eventually throwing his son a tight smile. Tristan fought the urge to laugh and shuffled in his seat, scooping up a small
forkful and tasting it.

  He swallowed down the ashy food and cleared his throat. “Ketchup?”

  “Good idea.”

  Tristan jumped up and grabbed the bottle from the fridge, handing it to his father with a light snicker.

  “I’ll get better,” he mumbled.

  “Thanks for trying.” Tristan smiled—a small, closed-mouth one, but genuine.

  His dad squirted a blob of ketchup onto his plate and handed it to his son. “So, ah, what, um, seems to be bothering you this week?”

  “Dad, really?” Tristan tipped his head with a pitiful frown, snapping the ketchup bottle closed and placing it down between them.

  “Come on, buddy, I used to be a good dad. We used to go out back and chuck a ball around. You’d tell me everything.”

  Tristan swirled his fork through his ketchup. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

  His father nodded. “Yeah, I know it, but you can still tell me anything.”

  What was it with people and trying to get him to talk? The day had been stuffed full of them. Tristan slumped back in his seat and started spinning his water glass around.

  “Is it about a girl?” His dad took another bite of his food, his Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed it down.

  Tristan’s gaze shot to his father’s before it dashed back to the glass in his hands.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father nod. “She’s pretty awesome, huh?”

  Tristan’s lips rose before he could stop them.

  His father chuckled, grabbing his glass of water and taking a quick sip before running his tongue along his bottom teeth. “What’s her name?”

  “Helena,” Tristan whispered.

  “Nice.” His dad nodded again. “You know the first girl I ever fell for, I said her name that way too.”

  Tristan’s eyebrows bunched and he glanced at his dad. “What way?”

  “Aw, you know, whispering it like that…as if the word tasted like cotton candy in my mouth.”

  Tristan grinned, his cheeks starting to burn with color. His father gave him a light punch on the arm.

  “Son, you got it bad.” He chuckled and shot him a sympathetic half-smile. “She didn’t dump you, did she?”

  “Things got complicated.” Tristan tipped his head.

  “You think you can work it out?” The fork scraped his father’s plate as he scooped up more food.

  Tristan picked at his salad, flicking a large hunk of carrot to the side. “I’d like to. I just don’t know if I should.”

  His father tapped his fork on the plate. “I once dated a girl whose father hated me. I don’t know why. He was the kind of man to greet you at the door with a twelve-gauge shotgun in his hands.”

  Tristan’s eye bulged.

  “But I liked her too much to not at least try. So one night, after dark, I snuck over there and threw stones at her window. She opened it up, her smile radiant, her pale white hair glistening in the moonlight…”

  “Dad.” Tristan snapped his fingers, trying to bring his father back to earth.

  The large man shook his head, his lips curling with a sheepish grin. “Her name was Mandy, and I was a love-sick fifteen-year-old.”

  “What happened?”

  “We snuck out that night. I took her to a fair just outside of town and we had the time of our lives. I won her a panda bear in one of those shooting games and we shared cotton candy and kissed behind the fortune teller’s booth.”

  Tristan chuckled. “Did you get in trouble?”

  “Oh yeah, I thought he was going to blow my head off when I walked her back home. She was grounded for a month and I was banned from walking anywhere near the house. My father chewed me out and told me to stay away from her.”

  Shuffling in his seat, Tristan rested his arms against the table. “Did you?”

  “We tried pursuing it for a while, but it got too hard and complicated. She moved out of town at the end of the year, so it was over. It was worth it though, even for just that one night…a treasured memory.”

  “A paper crane,” Tristan murmured to himself.

  27

  Helena’s Fairytale

  “Rapunzel!” Tristan tried to shout and whisper at the same time so as not to get caught. His voice was going hoarse with the effort.

  Flinging another pebble at the window, he bit the inside of his cheek, hoping he was aiming for the right one. As soon as night had fallen, he’d snuck next door—crept through the bush like a commando warrior and scouted out the house. The tower window wasn’t an option, so he had to find her bedroom. He didn’t know the house well, but Helena had mentioned that her room was beneath them. They’d been sitting on the sofa at the time, so Tristan snuck around the other side of the house, lined up with what he hoped was her bedroom window, and started throwing pebbles.

  “Rapunzel!” he whisper-barked again.

  One more stone throw and a dim light flicked on. It must have been a lamp because the glow was soft, only growing slightly when the curtain parted.

  Helena’s pretty face popped into view. Tristan could hardly see her, but he was sure her lips parted with surprise before she unlatched the window and threw it open.

  Her voice was high with surprise. “Tristan? What are you doing here?”

  “Rapunzel.” He spread his arms wide. “Let down your hair.”

  She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand before flashing him a desperate look of worry.

  “Please,” he whispered. “I have to see you again.”

  Her expression melted to a swoon that had her biting her lower lip and disappearing inside. Tristan bounced from one foot to the next, chewing his cheek raw as he kept an eye out for the dragon.

  What felt like an eternity later, two white sheets that had been tied together were thrown from the window. Tristan jumped up and grabbed the rope, grunting as he pulled himself up. He reached the lip of the slanted roof and scrambled to Helena’s window.

  Clutching the edge of the sill, he leaned his head inside. His face was captured by her long, soft fingers, and before he could even speak her lips were on his. They were supple and warm, and he melted against them, breathing in her scent and floating out of time for a moment.

  She pulled back and pressed her forehead against his. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I can’t stay away. You have to let me in.”

  She stole a look over her shoulder, eyeing the bedroom door. “You know I can’t. It’s too risky.”

  He cupped her cheek, caressing her delicate jaw with his thumb. “Then come with me.”

  “Run away?” She tried to step out of his grasp, but he caught the back of her neck and held her steady.

  “Just for tonight.” He grinned. “One date. Please, let me show you.”

  Her forehead crinkled and she brushed her fingers down his cheek.

  “I’ll have you home by midnight, I promise.” He winked, making her lips twitch with a grin.

  “Mother is already in bed. She’s taken her sleeping herbs too, so I guess it would be safe enough, but…” Her face bunched with indecision.

  “I just want to give you a few more paper cranes, that’s all. One night, Helena. Please.”

  That did it. The paper cranes thing. She was all over that.

  Her eyes began to dance, her lips rising into a radiant grin.

  “Let me get dressed.” She spun away and Tristan dipped back down onto the roof to give her some privacy.

  More and more stars were littering the sky as night set in. Tristan grinned, gazing up at the brilliant landscape, grateful for the crystal-clear night. The air was definitely getting warm, that harsh winter chill being replaced with a fresh spring breeze. Blossoms were budding on trees and the hope of summer flittered through the air.

  Tristan smiled. He wanted everything about the date to be perfect. There was a chance this was the only one she’d ever get. He had to make it count.

  “I’m ready.” She appeared behind the curtain again, loo
king exquisite in a pale pink dress that hugged the curves of her torso before floating down to her knees.

  “You look like a princess.” He grinned.

  “Well, you did call me Rapunzel.” She brushed a long lock of hair over her shoulder and gave him a shy smile.

  “Come on.” He shimmied to the side and held out his hand, helping her through the wooden frame. Her ballet slippers skidded on the slate shingles. She yelped and flailed.

  Tristan reached for her, catching her against his side and holding her close. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Climb on my back.”

  Her arms were taut wire as she did so, her legs wrapping around his hips. Her breath teased his neck as she clung to him, making Tristan smile.

  Not wanting to scare her, he took his time, gently descending the roof and slipping down the side of the house. He let go of the sheet and landed with a light thud. Helena’s arms tensed around his throat but then loosened as she slid off his back.

  She looked around her, fear and wonder playing over her features. “I haven’t been outside like this for six years. I’ve grown so much in that time, you’d think the world would seem a little smaller.” She looked up at the sky, a soft breath whistling out of her. “But it’s so big.”

  Tristan took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll keep you safe.”

  Her head bobbed like a jackknife but she smiled, squeezing his hand and letting him lead her off the property.

  They eased out the gate, wincing at its soft creak, then hit the sidewalk and headed down the road. Tristan wanted to take her into town. Church Street Marketplace was always so magical at night and Friday was open with market stalls and that happy end-of-the-week buzz that seemed contagious. Helena would love it.

  Her fingers remained tightly clasped within his, her muscles growing more taut with each step down the darkened streets. Squeezing her digits, he swung their arms and tried to distract her with talk of something she’d love.

  “So, we’ve started a poetry unit a school.”